A Nightmare from which I am Trying to Awake
by ringoichigo
Summary: Alfred is a High School student with a difficult home life. Mr. Kirkland is the new History teacher desperate to understand him. USXUK Rated M for future chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi guys, this is my first fanfic, I hope you all enjoy it. It seems tame now but is rated M for future chapters!**

**WARNING: Contains YAOI/ BOYXBOY**

**DISCLAIMER: As much as I would like to, I do not own Hetalia or any of its characters.**

**ENJOY ~ringoichico~**

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><p>Alfred's elbow slipped off the side of his desk, causing him to awaken with a start. For a moment he blinked rapidly, slightly dazed, before taking in the familiar sight of the busy classroom around him and straightening his glasses.<p>

"Ah, Alfred! _Bonjour, mon am_i!" Came a familiar voice. Alfred felt a hand on his shoulder and glanced up at the owner of the voice, who in return winked and smiled at the sandy blonde. "I was wondering when you were planning on waking up. You seem to spend most of your school day sleeping recently."

Alfred looked at his watch and realised he had been sleeping for just over an hour. Much to the annoyance of the cleaning staff he had been coming in early to sleep for the past couple of months. The predictability and comfort of the school day was a haven for Alfred, and lately he had found that the building was the only one in which he could feel safe enough to fall asleep. God knows with his father's alcoholism home life was hectic enough to keep him from sleeping. Instead he spent the night playing video games and eating snacks, as well as dreaming about finally being able to move out after high school had ended. Just over a year to go.

"Mornin', Francis," Alfred yawned, stretching his arms up above his head before affectionately punching the Frenchman softly on his arm, "And how would you be this morning, dude?" Alfred intentionally avoided addressing his friends' questions about his recent sleeping patterns. He had managed to keep his home life and friendships separate thus far, and would like the situation to remain that way.

"Ah, I am well, _mon ami_, although I hear that _Monsieur_ Peterson has had to quit and left on 'urgent family business' and so we are to have a new history teacher! _C'est très mal, non_?" Francis sighed, even as he directed flirty glances at the girls in the class, most of whom were entirely infatuated with his beautiful blond locks and his typical French charm "_Monsieur_ Peterson was your favourite teacher, was he not?"

"No way! Dude, that totally sucks! He was so Goddamn nice. Man, History is gonna blow. I bet they give us some lame grandpa who just wants to read endlessly from a textbook." Alfred huffed and slumped onto the desk.

A small group of girls giggled and blushed as Francis blew a quick kiss their way. "We shall see, shall we not? We can always hope we might get a beautiful woman with a tight shirt and long legs, _non_?"

Alfred was about to give Francis a quick telling off for being such a womaniser, but their homeroom teacher came in and began morning registration, sending Francis back to his seat. The two blonds caught each other's eye and grinned. "See you in History, dude" mouthed Alfred as he gave the Frenchman his trademark heroic grin.

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><p>First period Physics dragged on for what seemed like an age. Without Francis to keep him company and distract him during boring lessons, Alfred's mind kept wandering back to the situation at home, and how he was going to make sure that the rent got paid that month. Alfred had a part time job as a waiter at a busy coffee shop near the small apartment he called home, and for the most part it managed to cover everything, but this month had been particularly tight seeing as every electrical appliance in the apartment had decided to break, warranting extra expenditure.<p>

At long last the bell sounded, and Alfred, shaking his head to clear his thoughts, grabbed his stuff and headed down the corridor to History. He picked up Francis along the way before taking his usual seat at the front next to the window while the class waited for the replacement teacher. Alfred liked being able to look out the window to the sports fields below and watch the teams practice. There was a time when Alfred was really into sports, but his recent situation had left him too tired and strapped for time to continue. He regretted it, but he could always take it up again later in life, he thought.

He was still gazing dreamily out onto the fields when he heard a girl take in a short gasp behind him, and felt Francis' elbow jab painfully into his ribs.

"OW! Dude what the f…" Alfred trailed off once he saw what had caused such a response.

The man who had just walked in through the door was not what anyone was expecting from a replacement History teacher. Alfred's gaze wandered from a pair of expertly polished black shoes, up a pair of long, seemingly never-ending legs, to a slim but strong looking torso clad in an expensive – looking grey pinstripe suit with maroon tie, before resting on the man's face.

Alfred felt his jaw drop, along with most of the class's. A pair of incredibly green eyes stared straight out from under a shock of light blond hair and two thick eyebrows, a slight nervous smile graced the man's smooth lips, and a slight blush decorated the flawless skin of his cheeks. Alfred doubted he had ever seen anything so beautiful in his life.

The man strode to the front of the class, and in impeccably neat handwriting wrote the name "Mr. Kirkland" on the board.

"Good morning, class," he said after clearing his throat. "My name is Mr. Kirkland, and I will be taking you for History for the remainder of this year. I do hope we will get on."

At this, the vast majority of the girls in the class, as well as Francis, let out a quiet squeaking noise. The figure in front of them had just spoken in the most amazingly attractive British accent. Every syllable enunciated to perfection, his voice smooth as liquid caramel. The class was astounded; Alfred was entranced.

Clearly slightly put off by the seeming lack of response to his initial introduction, Mr. Kirkland once again cleared his throat and continued, "I realise that having a new teacher at this time of year can be a bit of a jolt, and so that's why I would like to address any concerns you may have and also get to know you all a bit. Feel free to find me in the History staff roo- I mean, faculty lounge, and I will be more than happy to have a jolly good chat with you! Now, before I dismiss you all early"- he held up a hand to quell the cheering that had broken out- "Any questions?" The blonde beamed at the class. He seemed very enthusiastic, thought Alfred. He could only be, what? 24? 25? Either way he had a charming mix of eagerness and an air of intelligence about him. What a man.

No one asked any questions. It was a sunny day outside and everyone seemed eager to find their friends and gossip about the sexy new teacher that had miraculously appeared in the school. Mr. Kirkland smiled and gave everyone permission to leave, though under strict orders that they "read pages 34-45 of the textbook and make notes on what they deem the most important points".

The class started to gather their belongings together and move out, as Francis turned to Alfred and mouthed "_Mon Dieu!_". All the sandy blond could do was blink and gape.

The Frenchman seemed to have noticed that Alfred was in a severe state of shock, and so forced him to move out of the seat onto which he seemed to be glued, practically dragging him out of the classroom. "What on Earth is wrong with you, _mon ami_?" he muttered.

They were almost out the door when Mr. Kirkland's clear voice rang out behind them.

"Ah, I'm terribly sorry to interrupt, but are you Alfred Jones, by any chance?"

Alfred immediately snapped out of his daze, and turned to face the teacher, feeling his face redden. How did the teacher know his name already? "Yes Mr. – ah – Kirkland?"

"Could you possibly stay behind for just a few moments? I would like to talk to you a little." He said, cocking his head slightly to the side. Alfred was horrified to realise that he found the gesture immensely adorable.

"Of course. Um, Francis, can you go on ahaed of me? I'll see you later dude." The Frenchman nodded in response and sauntered out of the classroom, shutting the door behind him.

"Ah, yes. Please, take a seat Mr. Jones." Mr. Kirkland gestured to a seat in front of the teacher's desk at the front of the class. Alfred obliged, still unable to take his eyes from the Englishman as he watched him take his position on the other side of the desk.

"Now, Mr. Jones, It says here in my notes that you, for the duration of your time at this school, have been pretty much constantly at the top of the class in History. Can I presume a keen interest in the subject?" Mr. Kirkland asked, his sparkling emerald eyes gazing intensely at Alfred.

"Er- Well, that is – Yes I am interested in it, I mean, it's always been my favourite class and er…" Alfred trailed off awkwardly, pushing his glasses up his nose and fidgeting constantly. He was furious at himself. Why was he so self conscious. Heroes weren't self conscious by nature.

Mr. Kirkland beamed. "Excellent. History really is fantastic, is it not? It is the witness that testifies to the passing of time; it illuminates reality, vitalizes memory, provides guidance in daily life, and brings us tidings of antiquity. That's a Cicero quote and it pretty much embodies my passion towards the subject. And it also inspires me to ignite that same passion in others, which is why I was so excited to meet a student who apparently shares the same interest. However, one thing I have noted is that in the last few tests your scores have been rather below the standard set by your past achievements. I know I'm new here but I want you to know if there's anything bothering you that is affecting your studies, I am of course here to listen, and do whatever I can to help."

Alfred's flush deepened further "Er, well I know I've not been doing as well recently but er… I'm sure I can get back on track. And er, thanks. But er, really there's nothing that bad going on. I'm just er… stressed about SATs and stuff." His eyes were fixed on the floor now. He somehow couldn't stand to lie to this man, and definitely couldn't look him in the eyes while he did so, though when he eventually raised his eyes back to that mesmerising face a gentle smile was adorning it, lighting up his features, his eyes glistening their unbelievable deep green. Alfred felt his heart skip a beat. What the hell was going on?

"Well," continued Mr. Kirkland, his eyes staring straight into Alfred's "if you ever do really feel like there's anything you want to talk about, I'm your man. I hope we will get on famously! I'm sorry to have kept you so long, Mr. Jones. You're free to go!"

Alfred nodded, and got up to leave. His face was hot and his heart was thudding, which he decided to attribute to the heat in the room, rather than to the presence of this man he barely knew. The sooner he left, he figured, the sooner he would be able to compose himself.

Mr. Kirkland rose as well as Alfred took his leave and headed to the door. Just before he reached it, he was stopped in his tracks by the teacher's interjection.

"Oh, by the way, Mr. Jones, call me Arthur."

Alfred spun round in shock and stared at the teacher. That kind smile had once again graced his lips, leaving Alfred speechless.

"…Arthur…" Alfred muttered distractedly, before realising he had just said it aloud. His eyes widened and his cheeks blushed a deep crimson. "Ah! I er – have to go." With this, he spun on the spot and ran as fast as he could out of the classroom and down the corridor.

He rushed to the nearest bathroom and stared at his reflection in the mirror. He was a mess, his hair was scruffy, his face was bright red and his eyes were shining a ridiculously bright blue. "What the hell, Alfred?" He whispered to himself, before splashing his face with the coldest water he could handle. He dried his face using the bottom of his shirt and stared at the ceiling. How could one man's company cause his body to react this way? One _man_'s company. Alfred was pretty sure he wasn't gay. He'd had girlfriends in the past, and never thought about men in that way. But Mr Kirkland. Arthur. He was something else. Before he had realised it, another soft "Arthur" had passed his lips. He immediately flung his hands up to his mouth in horror. He wasn't gay, dammit. It was just hot in the room, right?

"WHAT THE FUCK?" Alfred yelled. Luckily the bathroom was empty so no one was around to hear his outburst. This brief moment of relief from all the tumultuous feelings inside of him bought a brief moment of clarity to his mind. Francis. He needed to talk to Francis. He was the expert on love and lust and the like.

One last quick check in the mirror later, Alfred was running at full pelt towards the tree under which he knew Francis would be sat, where they always sit during free periods. Francis would know what to do about this.

"I'm not gay I'm not gay I'm not gay…."

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><p><strong>That's it for the first chapter! I hope you liked it! Thank you for taking time to read it and any reviews would be greatly appreciated! I will update as soon as possible! :3<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi again guys! Enjoy the second chapter! Thank you so much to CircadianLily, LovelessRain0397, 25 to heroplz and Hyanna for reviewing – I really appreciate it! :3**

**Also, thank you to everyone who added this to their favourite stories list or story alerts! **

**WARNING: Contains YAOI/ BOYXBOY**

**DISCLAIMER: As much as I would like to, I do not own Hetalia or any of its characters.**

**ENJOY ~ringoichico~**

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><p>Arthur chuckled to himself. What an interesting boy that Alfred Jones was.<p>

He turned away from the door out of which the student in question had just exited and walked to the window, gazing out onto the fields sprawled out underneath the crisp spring sky. The same sky he had stared out into so many times back in England, but yet so different.

He had only been working as a teacher for a couple of years. A keen and approachable man, the students at any school he had visited seemed to take instantly to him, and he felt at home. His extremely large house, which he had interested from his recently deceased Grandfather, felt like home, the comforting fireplace and squishy armchair in the living room providing the perfect place for a bit of relaxation and calm while he marked the students' homework and tests. For a year or so Arthur was certain his life was as near to perfect as it was possible to be.

However, Arthur slowly began to grow tired of his routine. The charms the countryside had once wooed him with as a child seemed to diminish as his need for adventure and a change of pace had grown. His sprawling house seemed too large, and he no longer felt attached to it. He, after all, had not earned it himself. Coming from a rich family Arthur had never wanted for anything in his life, never had to work to better himself.

It was all so dull.

Eventually he took the decision to sell the house and move somewhere different. Somewhere he had never been before. And America was where he settled on. The money from the house paid for plane tickets and an apartment in Atlanta. With his job references at the ready, he set off into the unknown, safe in the knowledge that even if job offers were slow, he at least had enough money to tide him over until he could find work. However, he needn't have worried; just a couple of months after he had arrived one of the local high schools had called to inform him that due to an unexpected change of events a post had become available in the History department. Arthur had jumped at the chance.

The school had sent him noted regarding what the classes he was to take care of were currently learning, and a little about their grades and history within the school. Sitting at the table drinking his morning Earl Grey tea, Arthur had stumbled across the profile of one particular student that had piqued his interest. The boy's name was Alfred Jones. An attractive boy, judging by the small yearbook photo that accompanied the notes on him. His grades were fantastic, and the quality of an essay he had recently written astounded even Arthur. However, he had noted that in the past couple of months, both the boy's essay and test grades had plummeted. He had enquired with the school as to whether they knew of anything going on with the boy that might have caused such a dramatic shift. They had no idea, but Arthur, stunned by the talent that the student had seemed to show, resolved to do his best to help him in any way he could.

However, standing outside the classroom door before going in to his first class in America, all thoughts other than nervousness left him. Would these students like him? Would they laugh at his accent? Would they think he was too posh? God, why had he chosen to wear such a formal – looking suit? He quickly reminded himself he was being ridiculous and , quickly shaking off his nerves, walked into the classroom with (what he hoped looked like) confident strides.

Aside from the notable lack of uniform, Arthur was soon put at ease by the fact that the students seemed completely normal. He picked up on a bit of interest in his accent, but other than that, they seemed to accept him quite well. While addressing the students he had let his eyes wander around, trying to put faces to the names he had seen in his notes. There was Francis Bonnefoy, the exchange boy who had just apparently just decided to stay. Mediocre grades but oozing charisma. And next to him…

Momentarily Arthur's breath caught in his throat. There was the Jones boy. He had seen the picture of him, but was caught off guard by the stunningly sapphire-blue eyes that were locked onto him. They were framed by lightly wire - rimmed glasses, but underneath them were vaguely noticeable dark circles. Arthur's mind flew back to the notes, and the drop in results.

After dismissing the class, Arthur had called the Jones boy back to talk. He had made a pointed effort to seem approachable, but the student had avoided looking at him for the most part, and had mumbled some excuse to try and explain his results, but Arthur was not fully convinced. A boy with such clear talent and interest in the subject should not be attaining grades such as his without a significant reason behind them. Still, he could tell that he was bothering the boy by keeping him behind and so decided to let him go. However, just as the boy was about to leave the classroom, still avoiding locking eyes with him, another thought sprang to Arthur's mind.

"Oh, by the way, Mr. Jones, call me Arthur."

The boy had spun round at this, finally bringing his eyes directly to Arthur's. They really were a fantastic blue. Arthur smiled, although he was slightly unprepared for what happened next.

"…Arthur…"

The Jones boy clearly hadn't intended to repeat the teacher's name, although Arthur felt a slightly odd feeling when he did. The boy's eyes had widened, and without saying another word he had run out into the corridor, slamming shut the door behind him. What an interesting boy.

Later on in the faculty lounge, Arthur was surprised to find out he was getting on well with his new colleagues, who were all remarkably young for a social sciences department. He even got the impression that a few of the female members of staff were flirting with him slightly. Arthur put it down to the accent, and told them about how much he was enjoying his time in the USA, although he hadn't really got a chance to explore the social side of Atlanta. His experiences had mostly been confined to visits to the nearest convenience store, and a tour of a soft drink factory.

"You mean you haven't seen Atlanta's nightlife yet?" A young brunette psychology teacher named Elizabeta asked, a look of clear disbelief on her face.

"Well then," a teacher (Arthur could not recall the subject) called Gilbert interjected, "We'll have to correct that, won't we?"

"Oh yes. Yes we will, indeed" Elizabeta responded, a devilish glint dancing in her eyes. "Who here's up for coming to a welcoming party for our new friend and colleague here?"

The teachers unanimously cheered and gave Arthur a pat on the shoulder. Bars and clubs weren't usually his scene; he preferred a quiet pub with a pint of larger, but with all the teachers looking so excited, and himself being thrilled with having so easily made friends, he grudgingly agreed to go, earning another round of cheers.

"9 P.M. Friday night alright for everyone?" Gilbert asked. There was a general noise of ascent. "Excellent. Arthur, I'll come call for you about 8, make sure you know your way around the city enough to be able to make your way home slightly intoxicated."

Arthur laughed, in good spirits, before excusing himself. Later on, once he had finished his day and headed back to his apartment , he sat comfortably in front of the TV with another cup of tea, revelling in how unexpectedly well his day had turned out. Now he thought about it, he was actually pretty tired. He checked the clock on the wall. Only half past 8, but he headed to bed regardless after his shower. He needed to keep his energy levels up if every day was going to be as exciting as the one just passed. He felt himself drifting off comfortably in his double bed, the occasional mumble of traffic outside his window a soft lullaby. A pair of twinkling blue eyes was the last thing he saw before he fell entirely asleep.

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><p>A couple of blocks away, sleep was the last thing on Alfred's mind. He still had a couple of hours left at work, although most of it now was cleaning, and he didn't have to bother hiding how tired he was. However he knew that going home wouldn't help either. He had checked his phone and found several missed called from his father. His father never called at that time unless he was drunk enough to forget that Alfred was at work, and Alfred knew that once home, his father wouldn't shut up asking him questions about why his mother had left, and about whether she was coming back, and about if there was enough money for a packet of cigarettes and a bottle of jack. And when Alfred couldn't provide the answers to these questions his father would get angry. This was when Alfred would retire to his room to play video games with headphones on to block out the noise.<p>

And indeed, once he arrived home, the ritual proceeded seamlessly, and Alfred found himself under the duvet in his room, headphones blasting out gun noises and the backing music from "Zombie Killerz 3". He did, however, find his eyes wandering to the history textbook sticking out of his bag. His thoughts wandered to the conversation he had had earlier with Francis about how weirdly Mr. Kirkland had made him act.

Francis had simply laughed it off, "ah but of course you are just thrown by his looks. He is a very attractive gentleman, of course, _mon ami_. Almost as pretty as a girl"

And the Frenchman hadn't much cared about Alfred's concerns about his sexuality. "It is normal to experiment, Alfred. And if you're that concerned about your feelings, you can just put them down to a little schoolboy crush. He is a teacher after all. Nothing will come of it, so it is perfectly harmless, _non_?" For a reason he couldn't pinpoint, this dismissal had kind of pissed Alfred off.

Alfred's mind next wandered to the talk he had after the lesson with the subject of his and Francis' rather fruitless conversation. Mr. Kirkland. Arthur. He seemed like such a kind man, and seemed to show genuine interest in Alfred's talent, excited to have found someone who loved history as much as he did.

And Alfred did love history. How could have forgotten and become so disillusioned? His eyes focused back onto the textbook. Maybe he should do his homework.

He wouldn't admit it to himself, but one of the reasons he wanted to do it was to increase the chances of seeing Mr. Kirkland – Arthur – smile kindly again. And besides, it was already 4 A.M. It didn't look like he was sleeping tonight.

Even so, as he poured over the textbook, pencil furiously scribbling out notes, he felt a quiet sense of calm. Arthur's kind smile always at the back of his mind.

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><p><strong>And there you have it! Chapter 2! I will update again as soon as possible, although it may not be quite as quick as this update was, seeing as I have an exam on Wednesday :( <strong>

**Once more, thanks to everyone for reading!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi there! I'm sorry this update took a little longer than the others! I hope you still enjoy it though! **

**Also, thank you to everyone for reviewing, although I have only just discovered that I can reply personally to reviews, which I vow to do from now on!**

**WARNING: Contains YAOI/ BOYXBOY**

**DISCLAIMER: As much as I would like to, I do not own Hetalia or any of its characters.**

**ENJOY ~ringoichico~**

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><p>By the time third period History rolled around, Alfred was terrified. How was he going to face the man who had only yesterday made him feel so confused? And he was <em>actually <em>going to hand in the terrible notes he had written. Dear God, he hoped Mr. Kirkland wasn't going to judge his ability based solely on this.

Throughout the class, he attempted to avoid eye contact with the teacher, or to in fact avoid looking anywhere in his direction, instead opting to force his eyes to look out onto the fields. However, he did find himself unable from occasionally glancing the Englishman's way, and infuriatingly he would find Mr. Kirkland – Arthur – looking back at him, at which point the teacher would flash that ridiculously warm smile. Alfred would blush and force himself to look back out the window; Francis would chuckle annoyingly at his side.

Indeed, Francis was not helping the situation at all. Upon discovering that Alfred had for once done his homework, he had relentlessly teased the sandy blonde all morning, spouting endless nonsense about the power of _l'amour. _As if Alfred needed reminding about how confusing his feelings were.

Even after History was over, Francis's taunts continued throughout the day, and the Frenchman went as far as to follow him to the entrance to his part – time job after school, just so he could squeeze in a little more about how _très beau _Alfred must have thought _Monsieur _Kirkland had looked that morning. Needless to say, Alfred was for once glad to be at work. His mind was kept busy and he could settle into a comfortable routine of serving customers then cleaning until closing time. However, as soon as he opened the door to the apartment, his brief period of calm was interrupted.

"And where the fuck 'ave _you _been?" His father growled from the stained armchair on which he was slumped, whiskey bottle and cigarette in hand. Alfred sighed and tried to walk behind the chair and to his room. When his father was like this, it was a far better idea to keep quiet and go about normal business. However, he only made it half way across the room.

"Where do you think you're going, boy? You tryin' to ignore me, are you?" Alfred looked up in dread as he saw his father rising out of the armchair, swaying slightly, yet trying to look his son in the eye.

"N-no sir" said Alfred, trying to keep a slight tremble from his voice, "I've just been at work."

"_Work_? You're lyin' to me boy. Friday's your night off. Why the _fuck _would you lie to me, eh? Unless," His father lurched forwards, closer to Alfred, until their faces were inches away, brown eyes glaring almost inhumanly at blue, "_Unless_ you're planning on leaving me as well. Just like your _fucking whore_ of a mother did."

"It's fucking_ Tuesday_ you alcoholic. Don't you _dare_ talk about Mom that way either. She treated me far better than you ever did." The words slipped out before Alfred could stop them. His eyes widened in horror before he squeezed them tightly shut, preparing for what he knew would come next.

And indeed it did, though he was determined not to make a noise as he felt his father's fist smash into his cheek. Although his father had been mostly inanimate for the past few months, mainly due to him being too drunk to move properly, he was still a large, hulking figure of a man, and the punch knocked Alfred off his feet. As he lay on the ground he felt his father flick his cigarette over him before lurching back to his armchair and turning on the television.

"Get the fuck out of my sight you fucking _useless_ excuse for a son." The words would have hurt even more than the punch did, but Alfred was far too used to it. Instead he pulled himself off the ground and went to his room, shutting the door tightly behind him. Pulling off his work clothes, he threw on a pair of pyjama bottoms and was considering a t-shirt, but decided against it. For an April night it really was very warm. He quickly made a trip to the bathroom, hoping against hope that his father wouldn't hear him, and using the sink instead of the noisy, whining shower to wash his dirty blond locks. Not wanting to stay outside of the comfort of his room for any longer, he left it wet, and once again shut himself into his small sanctuary.

His room was tiny, but its one saving grace, other than the games console and television his mother had once bought for him in happier times, was the small balcony from which he could look at the stars and recover after incidents such as the one just gone. He opened the door which lead onto it and looked down the street at all the other apartments with all their other balconies and inside, all the other families that lived in them. He wondered if they went for family days out, if they ate dinner together, if they were happy.

However, he found that these thoughts were making him feel rather sad, and instead he stood and gazed at the full moon and the few glittering pinpoints adorning the sky around it. The way they shined reminded him of a certain teacher's eyes.

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><p>Arthur had been pleasantly surprised to find Alfred Jones's notes had been handed in with the rest of the class's. Arthur had explained to the students that, although he wasn't usually going to ask to see their notes, he wanted to assess the writing styles and evaluation ability of the individuals within the class.<p>

The rest of the lesson went well, as did the rest of the day, although Arthur did find that he was becoming rather too distracted by the Jones boy's deep blue eyes, occasionally finding them twinkling a little too brightly in his peripheral vision, although on the few occasions he looked at the boy head on, he noted that the dark circles under his eyes were still present and if he wasn't mistaken, looked slightly worse.

Arthur was of course curious and wanted to ask about it, but Alfred had still not taken him up on his offer of listening to his problems, and Arthur didn't want to seem pushy; especially as he was so new to the school. Instead, he simply took it upon himself to seem more approachable, smiling warmly at the boy whenever their eyes chanced to meet. Even on the short drive home, Alfred Jones was niggling at the back of the teacher's mind. And he stayed there while Arthur poured himself a cup of tea, lit a cigarette and sat down to look over the notes he had taken in that day. When he reached Alfred's, his mouth hung slightly open, and his cigarette lay still in his hand, forgotten.

The boy was incredible. His writing style was fluent and concise, but still informative. In fact, in analysing the key points of the reading, Alfred had used examples that were new even to Arthur. A short piece of work was, Arthur decided, not nearly enough to enable this boy to show his full talent. He resolved to set an essay reasonably soon. He wanted more and more from the boy, and of course from the rest of the class. Their notes were generally of a high standard, but were massively overshadowed by the Jones boy, and by the time Arthur had finished going over them, he realised he was quite bored, and it was getting late. He resolved to have one last cigarette and another quick skim over Alfred Jones's notes before heading off to bed with another tea. This time maybe chamomile and vanilla to help him sleep.

He prepared to light the cigarette, but changed his mind. The apartment was starting to smell like that of a smoker, which indeed Arthur was. He just didn't want anyone to know, including any visitors who happened to come round. He decided the best option was to use the balcony outside, which funnily enough he realised he had yet to set foot upon, and tonight seemed like the perfect time to give it a go. It had been warm and sunny all day, and the chill that had plagued the evenings for the past few days had not showed up. The moon was full, and the sky was clear.

"How pleasant!" Arthur exclaimed to himself as he shut the door behind him. Leaning his elbows on the railing, he lit his cigarette and took a couple of long, satisfying drags while staring up at the stars above him. The slight light pollution from the streetlights below meant that the view was far less impressive than it was back in the countryside of England, where Arthur had become quite an avid fan of stargazing, even investing in a couple of decent telescopes. The blond smiled a little. It may have been less impressive, but he found the stars to still offer the same wonderful sense of comfort.

Realising he had left the Jones boy's work inside, he turned to go back and retrieve it, but something caught his eye and stopped him. On the opposite side of the street, a few apartments down, he spotted someone else gazing at the stars. The person in question was so beautiful it nearly took Arthur's breath away. The full moon highlighted the strong firm muscles of the man's arms, illuminating his creamy skin and catching of the droplets of water that every now and again fell from his wet hair. The man was shirtless, and as he leaned back and yawned, Arthur could see the toned torso which lead down into the low-slung pyjama bottoms. Bloody hell, the man was gorgeous. Arthur had known for a long time that he was bisexual but he had never felt more strongly attracted to a man in his life, and he hadn't even seen his face properly yet.

He was staring for so long that he had once again forgotten about his cigarette, which had burned up to where his fingers were holding it loosely. The flame burned him slightly, causing Arthur to let out a loud curse and stick the injured fingers into his mouth to ease the pain. He looked back to where the man was standing and was horrified to find him looking right towards Arthur's balcony. Arthur made to lift his hand in apology for his outburst, but suddenly he froze. The eyes that were now firmly trained on the Englishman, accentuated by the moonlight, were bright blue.

For a moment, Arthur simply stared back, completely dumbfounded. It was Alfred Jones stood on that balcony. Alfred Jones his student. Alfred Jones the student who he had just been gawping at for the past five minutes.

This thought kickstarted Arthur's brain into action. Hurriedly he fumbled his way back into his apartment, slamming the door shut behind him. There he stood, back to the wall, His head a complete and utter mess. What the _bloody hell_ had he done? He had just been lusting after a _student_. And he had been seen doing it. And even if by some miracle he hadn't been seen, there was no way he would be able to look at Alfred Jones the same again. Not after he had seen that strong body, the way his V –shaped muscle lines dipped in above the waistband of his pants, almost tempting Arthur's eyes to travel further down to where they pointed… And then there were of course his eyes… Arthur imagined them gazing up at him, dark with lust…

Jesus. He was at it again. He rested his head in his hands as he fought terribly to keep the thoughts threatening to consume him at bay. This was going to be a problem.

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><p>Across the street, a few houses down, Alfred stood blinking at the space where the stranger had been stood. Blond and with a slim frame, Alfred had fancied he looked a bit like Mr. Kirkland, although of course that was ridiculous, and it wasn't like he could see him properly anyway. His eyesight was dodgy at best without his glasses on, which he had removed after work.<p>

Still, the thought was enough to send his mind back to thinking about the teacher, and his stomach, disconcertingly, performed a small flip. He thought about his eyes, about his hair, and especially about that beautiful smile. Suddenly he wanted to say his name, as if it would make him feel slightly closer. He looked around warily, scared of anyone eavesdropping, before he dropped his voice to a hushed whisper.

"Arthur." He murmured. He'd said it before, but never had a chance to relish how the name sounded, how it tasted on his tongue. He looked back to the slightly blurred moon and whispered it again. And again.

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><p><strong>So there you have it! Expect the next update within a couple of days! And as always, any reviews would be very much appreciated!<strong>

**Thank you! :3**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hi everyone! Here's a rather long chapter for you – I hope you like it!**

**Thanks to everyone for reviewing! **

**WARNING: Contains YAOI/ BOYXBOY**

**DISCLAIMER: As much as I would like to, I do not own Hetalia or any of its characters.**

**ENJOY ~ringoichico~**

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><p>Much to Alfred's dismay, he had noted that Mr. Kirkland had been significantly cooler towards him for the past few days. It was now Friday, and throughout both History lessons he had attended since Tuesday night Mr. Kirkland hadn't looked his way once. He had instead spent the entire class staring intently at the back wall of the room, and whenever they ran into each other in the corridors or at lunch, Mr. Kirkland would have his eyes firmly transfixed on his shoes, though Alfred had noticed that a slight flush had been decorating his otherwise pale cheeks. He certainly hoped the teacher didn't have a fever or anything.<p>

In fact, Alfred had found himself becoming worryingly protective over the Englishman. Whenever he noticed a female student gazing at him during class, he would send evil glances her way and silently curse her for being the right gender to have any chance in receiving affection from the teacher, and once, overhearing some first years mocking Mr. Kirkland's accent, he had "accidentally" spilt his cola on their shoes.

This was not like Alfred. He was meant to be the hero after all, right? Wasn't he? But then again, the hero always gets the girl. Or… older man… in this case.

This reminder would immediately send Alfred's heart plummeting. He was a male student and Mr. Kirkland was male teacher. Moreover, a male teacher who was now showing him little to no interest. Alfred was more saddened than he thought he should be, and Francis had started to notice.

"_Mon ami_!" The blond Frenchman had cheerfully yelled across the canteen at lunch on Friday. Alfred had reluctantly allowed him to sit at the table at which he had been miserably eating alone for the past ten minutes. "And I presume it is _Monsieur_ Kirkland's lack of attention which has made you so depressed – looking, _non_?"

Alfred grunted and munched glumly on his hamburger in response.

"Ah, _l'amour _is a cruel mistress, is she not? Well, _mon ami_, fear not. I have just the thing to take your mind off your problems." Francis grinned devilishly and from his pocket withdrew a driving license, which upon closer inspection had Alfred's photograph on it, along with a fake date of birth and…

"John Smith? Really, Francis? That the most imaginative name you could come up with?" Alfred sighed as he took hold of the fake I.D. It was very well done, compared to the botched jobs many students seemed to have made of their own. "And what are you expecting me to use this for? You want some expensive wine to help you woo some older woman?"

"Alfred, what do you take me for? This is for your use and your use alone. I was simply suggesting we go somewhere tonight to take your mind off your problems. You have never been out drinking, am I correct? You will have no problem with people believing your age; you are remarkably tall, after all"

"I dunno, Francis. Even if I don't get caught, I'm sure my pa will wonder where I am, seeing as Friday is my only night off." Alfred was tempted by the idea of being able to forget his problems for a night, and who knows? He may even be able to find a pretty girl to take his mind from Mr. Kirkland. However, his father was unpredictable. Half the time he wouldn't care about the whereabouts of his son, but Tuesday night's episode was making Alfred worry.

"Do not worry, _mon ami_. That has already been taken care of, you are to 'stay the night at mine' tonight. To be honest, your _papa_ seemed quite relieved that you were not going to be around. Is he planning to hold a dinner?"

Alfred almost spat out his burger while he tried not to laugh. A dinner? His father's idea of a dinner was to sit in front of the TV and eat badly cooked chicken. "Maybe." Was Alfred's neutral response. "Okay, fine I'll go. I doubt you'd let up on it anyway, but what am I going to wear? I don't really know what you're supposed to wear at bars."

"I will sort that out, _mon amour_" Francis said, the impish glint in his eyes growing worryingly bright. And with that he danced out of the canteen, taking time to flirt with a few blushing girls along the way. Alfred sighed and finished his burger before slurping on his coke. He was looking forward to tonight more than he would admit.

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><p>Around 7.45 that evening, Arthur was stood in front of the mirror, wondering if he looked too formal for a bar, and whether he had time to change anything before Gilbert came to pick him up at 8. He was dressed in a black button-up shirt with the top two undone, some dark trousers and his usual pair of black polished shoes. He decided he didn't have time to change even if he wanted to, before running a small amount of wax through his unruly blond hair, attempting to make it look somewhat tameable. This was, however, to no avail, and Arthur swore quietly at the jar.<p>

"High – powered hold my arse." The Englishman grumbled. He looked at his reflection and realised with a start that the last few minutes were the only time since that Tuesday night that he had managed to drag his thoughts away from the Jones boy. God help him, this week had been trying. Alfred seemed to be everywhere the teacher turned, staring at him with those beautifully deep blue eyes. Arthur would have no choice but to drop his eyes to the floor and try to walk past, pretending not to notice the sandy blond stood there. Infuriatingly, though, he couldn't stop a small flush from making its way onto his cheeks as images of his shirtless body in the moonlight continued to force their way into his brain.

In class, as well, he thought he had done rather well in preventing his eyes from resting on the Jones boy, as they would quite happily have done if he had let them. It hadn't helped that the warm spell that had started that Tuesday evening had continued relentlessly throughout the week, meaning Alfred had been wearing thin, short sleeved T-shirts which clung to his abdominal muscles and showed off his strong, tanned arms to perfection. In this state, Arthur was sure that if he looked that the boy even once there was no chance of him being able to tear his gaze away. Instead, he had opted to stare determinedly at a smudge on the back wall of the room.

At home, too, it had taken all his power not to stand on the balcony and wait for Alfred to step out and gaze at the moon in all his glory. He had shut the curtains over the glass door, and resolved to stay inside. However, lying in bed in the almost suffocating heat, Arthur found his thoughts kept drifting to Alfred. About his talent, and his body, and his hair, and his eyes. Everything about him tempted Arthur beyond belief. If he weren't a student life would be so much easier. He would buy him a drink or two, turn on his charm and soon would have him eating out of the palm of his hand. Another thing Arthur had never had to work hard for was sex. From either gender. Women and men alike had always found him attractive, and his flirty demeanour which was usually only brought out after a couple of drinks sealed the deal.

Every now and again he allowed himself the luxury of imagining Alfred was not a student. That they had met by chance in a pub somewhere. That Arthur had used his tried and tested method and eventually quietly suggested they go back to his house. That Alfred had kissed him passionately as they hurriedly removed each other's clothes and fell onto the fresh silk sheets. That Arthur had been able to run his hands over that tanned, smooth skin, feeling muscle after muscle ripple under his fingertips, whilst all the while Alfred stared at him lustily from behind his darkened blue eyes.

It was usually at the this point that Arthur had realised he had gotten hard, and with a curse he would flip open his laptop and find himself perusing internet porn desperately as if he were a teenager again himself. Anything to remove the thought of Alfred. However, nothing turned him on half as much as even a brief thought about the Jones boy. Arthur would head for a cold shower, his morals only just winning out against his carnal desires.

However, Arthur was hopeful about tonight. He thought he looked okay, and he was reasonably sure he'd be able to pick up some pretty young thing (most definitely _not_ a student) to take home for the night to soothe his longings. And when Gilbert arrived, he was still in the same unusually optimistic mindset as they set off into the warm night.

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><p>"Fuckin' hell, Francis! This place is huge!" It was 11 PM, and Alfred had just set foot into a bar with some fancy – sounding French name, having got past the doormen with no problems whatsoever. His eyes scanned the building. There were numerous bars dotted around the massive dance floor where a mass of bodies writhed in time to the thumping music blaring from numerous large speakers. "Is it always this busy?"<p>

"This is still a very new bar, _mon ami_. The prices of the drinks are yet to rise, and the people are still excited about it. This is normal." The Frenchman looked dashing in a white button-up shirt under a black blazer with his hair slung in a low ponytail. "Now, how about we find you a pretty girl eh, Alfred? You look presentable enough."

Francis had dressed Alfred in a pale blue shirt that brought out his eyes, a pair of dark – washed jeans and some smart – looking sneakers. It made a vast difference to his usual attire, which usually consisted of a plain t – shirt and some battered jeans, and already a few heads were turning their way. Franics had also insisted on Alfred wearing contact lenses, proclaiming that his eyes were his best feature, and that it was "practically a sin to hide them behind those glasses!" However, despite the small surge of confidence he felt at the number of girls checking him out, he was still nervous, and so suggested they go get a drink before anything else.

Alfred was not accustomed to drinking, and so Francis, being practically an expert, ordered him a double whiskey and cola, insisting that once he had got past the initial burn Alfred would love it. Alfred had never had whiskey before, and practically choked when he felt the liquid burning down his throat, but gradually found he enjoyed the sensation and ordered another. And another after that, seeing as how the drinks were inexpensive. Francis kept an eye on Alfred as he sipped on his martini and sent flirtatious glances at some of the women in the room. Eventually he noticed a couple of pretty girls stood by a pillar on their own.

"Hey, Alfred, you want to talk to those girls, non?" He said, nudging the sandy blond. Alfred turned and looked at Francis, eyes slightly bright and cheeks somewhat pink from the alcohol he just consumed.

"Sure, dude. Just let me get one more of those whisky and cola things." Soon after, they headed towards the girls. Francis did most of the talking while Arthur stood looking rather sheepish. He noticed that one of the girls, a short-ish but pretty redhead kept looking at him over her brightly coloured cocktail. When Francis suggested that they go dance, the redhead took Alfred's hand and lead him to the dance floor, Alfred continued to drink while he danced, eventually mustering the courage to put his arms around the girl, earning him a winning smile from Francis. However, as the next song started, Francis's face dropped and he turned pale. He took his hands from the brunette he had been dancing with and grabbed hold of Alfred's elbow roughly.

"Fuck, Alfred. Mr. Kirkland is here. We have to go. Now."

Alfred stood rooted to the spot. Mr. Kirkland? Arthur? He looked round confusedly, trying to locate the teacher, and eventually his eyes found him. He was sitting at one of the bars, a martini in hand, staring off into space. He was fully clad in black, making his blonde hair and emerald eyes blaze even brighter. Alfred felt Francis tugging on his arm, but he brushed him off. He felt vaguely aware of the Frenchman leaving his side, but that wasn't important. What _was _important was that right now the man he had been thinking of unremittingly was sat only a few metres away from him.

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><p>Arthur was sat at the bar. Alone. What a surprise, he thought. The teachers had all gone off to dance, which wasn't Arthur's strong point at all. Besides, he didn't feel like it. They had been in the club since 9 PM, and, waiting for it to fill up slightly, the other teachers had insisted on buying Arthur martini after martini. Once, Arthur had seen a boy who looked a little bit like Alfred, but with blue eyes, and this had completely ruined the good mood he had created for himself earlier. His thoughts set loose by alcohol, he had taken up a position at the bar to think about his situation and had not left it. What was the point in all this frivolity when he so desperately wanted something which he could simply not have? He asked the barkeeper for the time, and ordered another martini. Maybe he should try to find someone. His eyes surveyed the room leisurely, looking for anyone who took his fancy. The people were all beautiful, but none of them could compare to the charm of Alfred. Bloody hell, he was quite smitten.<p>

Suddenly, a flash of blue caught his eye and he moved his gaze to meet it. His heart nearly stopped. Alfred was stood a short distance away, staring in shock at the teacher. Arthur's mind went blank as he dumbly stared back. What was Alfred doing in a club? He was too young, wasn't he? And why was he not wearing glasses, just like that time on the balcony? Arthur's face turned bright red as the scene crossed his mind once again.

The song stopped, and a new one started with a bang, causing both the blonds to snap out of their staring. Arthur stood up and walked in as straight a line as he could manage up to Alfred, before grabbing hold of the boy's sleeve and pulling his hastily towards the male bathroom. Once inside, Arthur checked the cubicles, which were mercifully empty.

"Alfred Jones? What the _bloody hell _are you doing in a club?" His eyes fell to the glass in the student's hand "And you're bloody _drinking_? You're far too young for that!" Arthur attempted to inject as much authority as he could manage into his voice, despite it wavering at the sight of Alfred looking like a scolded puppy, staring at the floor. Suddenly he looked up, his wonderful eyes locked on Arthurs.

"Please Arthur – I mean Mr. Kirkland. I'm sorry. Just please don't tell my pa I was here"

"I'm sorry, Alfred but I think I'm going to have to. Are there any other students here?" Arthur tried desperately to remain in control of every urge in his body. All of which were telling him to reach out and pull the boy close to him, to feel his frim body pressed up against him. Arthur also noted that Alfred was a good few inches taller than him, making him look even more manly than he had thought.

"No, sir. Just me, I promise." Alfred's eyes began to shine brighter, and to Arthur's horror he could see tears begin to form in the corners. "You can't tell my pa, though; you don't know what he'll do. Please, Arthur, I'm begging you." Alfred grasped Arthurs hand and pulled it close to his chest in desperation, sending ripples of electricity coursing through the Englishman's body from where their skin touched. "Please, Arthur. I know you're a good person."

Arthur's heart melted. Could it really be that bad? And as the first tear rolled down Alfred's sun-speckled cheek, something in Arthur snapped. Suddenly he didn't care that the person in front of him was a student. He saw him clearly as a man. A man who he wanted so desperately, and who so desperately needed his help.

In one smooth, seamless movement, Arthur used the hand grasped by Alfred to pull him closer, before throwing his arms around his firm body in a warm embrace. He was completely unsure as to how Alfred would react to being hugged by a male teacher, but what he did not expect was for the embrace to be returned almost immediately. For a minute, they simply stood there in mutual shock and happiness, holding each other to their chests. Arthur felt so small in Alfred's strong arms, but at the same time he felt as though their bodies fitted together perfectly.

Slowly, hesitantly, Alfred pulled his head back, keeping his arms firmly around Arthur's frame. Their eyes met and each felt themselves melt into the other's gaze. A thousand words of longing were spoken with that one look, and Arthur responded willingly when Alfred moved his face to Arthur's, so close he could feel the sandy blond's hot breath against his skin, and pressed his lips gently against his own.

"Alfred…" Arthur's voice was soft and sweet. "If you don't want to go home, you're more than welcome to stay at my place. It's really very close to yours."

Alfred didn't bother asking how he knew where he lived, and as they both got in the cab to Arthur's apartment together, the comfortable silence continued as their hands intertwined.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading guys! Reviews would as always be appreciated, and I apologise for the fact that this chapter is so much longer than the others, but I hope you enjoyed it anyway :3<strong>


	5. Chapter 5

**Hi guys! I had a bit of trouble deciding EXACTLY what should happen in this chapter, but I hope you all enjoy it! Also, at times it switches between POVs quite rapidly, so I hope I've made everything clear enough**

**Once again, as is always the case, thank you to all reviewers and readers :3**

**WARNING: Contains YAOI/ BOYXBOY**

**DISCLAIMER: As much as I would like to, I do not own Hetalia or any of its characters.**

**ENJOY ~ringoichico~**

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><p>The cab stopped in front of Arthur's apartment block. The Englishman paid, vastly over-tipping the driver in a bid to make him leave quickly. It was a warm night but Arthur felt a shiver run up the length of his spine, though he was pretty sure it was less to do with the temperature, and more to do with the fact that Alfred Jones had just taken hold of his hand.<p>

"Well. Here we are, then..." Arthur gestured to the peeling paint-covered door. "Um, Alfred..?"

The young American looked around, vaguely confused.

"But Arthur, this is _my_ street. We can't go back to my house, there's no way in hell." Alfred's eyes span to rest on the door a few buildings down the street. The door which, Arthur knew, lead into his own apartment block.

"This um..." Arthur cleared his throat quietly, "This is my street, too."

Rather unexpectedly, Alfred's eyes lit up and an adorable grin found its way onto his strong, tanned face. His eyes then moved from Arthur and up to the fourth floor balcony, then to the same spot on his own block.

"Dude! So it really _was_ you on the balcony. Jeez, I thought it looked like you but I didn't have my glasses on and it was dark and I thought it would have been too good to be tru-" Arthur interrupted the sandy blond midway through his sentence with a small, chaste kiss. When he moved away, Alfred's deep blue eyes were shining straight into Arthur's, and a small flush had appeared on his cheeks. Arthur had never thought anything was so completely perfect in his entire life. How had he lived all this time without knowing that this boy – this fantastic _man_-had existed? All those one night stands and short relationships which he had thought so important at the time, all now seemed to empty and meaningless. To be able to share even one small kiss with Alfred was more than he could ever have dreamed of.

"Are... are you still okay to stay at mine? I mean, If you want to go stay at a friend's house, then that's fine – I don't want to pressure you or anything..." Arthur could feel his face heating up, and guessed his ears must be turning red. However, he needn't have worried. In response, Alfred squeezed the hand he was already holding and led the Englishman up to the door. Arthur let them both in, and they hurried up the stairs, where Arthur fumbled with his keys before opening his own apartment.

Once inside, Arthur impatiently shut and locked the door behind them. The lights in Arthur's neatly-kept apartment were off, and Alfred was little more than a partially illuminated silhouette as they each stood and looked at the other in the hallway. Arthur made to turn on the light switch, but Alfred's strong, muscular arms caught his hand in time, and instead pulled the Englishman into a firm embrace.

"Arthur." The American's voice came softly as he whispered into his ear, sending chills all over Arthur's body. "Arthur, I... I don't really know how to say this but... I really think I really, _really _like you. I mean, I've never felt this way about anyone and I the past few days of you ignoring me got me really worried and –"

Arthur broke away from the embrace and, his vision having adjusted to the darkness, looked straight at Alfred's vaguely crestfallen face. "Alfred, you bloody idiot. How could anyone ignore you? The truth is that the night I saw you on the balcony really changed something in me. I swear I didn't know it was you until you looked at me, but I was so very strongly attracted to you. And when I realised it was you I felt so terrible about how I had felt, and what I had thought about, and so decided to try and keep my distance from you, and not look into your eyes because I didn't think I'd be able to look away." Arthur sighed and looked down at the carpet, his cheeks, even in the darkness, visibly pink. "Although I'm not doing a very good job, by the looks of things. Bloody hell, Alfred Jones, you have no idea what you do to me."

Alfred blinked, his eyes widening as though he didn't dare to believe what he was hearing. His hand reached out to touch Arthur's soft cheeks, trailing his finger down the line of his jaw to his chin. Every millimetre touched by the American's slightly rough fingertip prickled with electricity and anticipation. Arthur closed his eyes to allow himself to feel the sensation more intensely, but instead felt Alfred's warm lips press softly onto his.

Their bodies moved closer together instinctively, and their arms more firmly grasped hold of the other's body. Something in Arthur still hesitated. However strongly he felt for this boy, surely this was frowned upon? They were only a few years apart in age, but their titles of teacher and student held so much more weight. However, all these thoughts completely disappeared as they separated, and he noticed Alfred's azure eyes staring distractedly at some invisible spot on the wall.

"Arthur. Where's the bedroom?"

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><p>Alfred pulled the Englishman down on top of him as he fell onto the bed. For a moment he enjoyed the view of the blond's piercing green eyes gazing into his own, the man's breath heavy and uneven, and his shirt partially unbuttoned. <em>Jesus<em>, Alfred thought, _I'm so fucking lucky_. He moved to continue unbuttoning Arthur's shirt, but instead Arthur grasped hold of his forearms and pushed them back onto the mattress, holding Alfred in place with more strength than he thought the teacher could manage. Immediately the Englishman lowered his head and forced his lips against Alfred's, his tongue pushing to gain entry. The American eagerly responded, and for a minute they lay, bodies pressed together as their tongues fought greedily to explore the other's mouths. Slowly, Alfred began to grind his hips against Arthur's. He felt the blond moan approvingly into his kiss and he continued, increasing the pressure.

Arthur's grip on Alfred's forearms softened in distraction, and the American used the opportunity to free his hands and begin roaming them over the slim body which lay on top of him. His large hands wandered down Arthur's lean, but still muscular back, before arriving at the Englishman's firm ass. He gave an appreciatory squeeze and Arthur giggled while they continued to kiss, their breathing becoming more laboured as they struggled to take in enough air. Eventually, Arthur broke away, holding himself up above Alfred.

He slowly began to unbutton the American's pale blue shirt which so beautifully highlighted his eyes, kissing each inch of freshly exposed skin as he went. He took the shirt fully off before taking the chance to gaze at his lover's perfectly toned chest and abs. His slim fingers of his right hand began to slowly encircle one of the American's hardened nipples as he placed kisses sporadically over the vast expanse of tanned skin beneath him, his free hand running over every line of muscle in admiration. He glanced up and saw that Alfred was looking at him, his blue eyes dark with lust and his cheeks tinted with just the slightest hint of blush. Just like in all of Arthur's fantasies. Apart from this wasn't just a fantasy. Alfred was here, now, and he wanted Arthur, just as much as Arthur wanted him. The thought immediately sent Arthur into overdrive, as he returned to kissing Alfred, and started trailing his hand further down his body towards the waistline of his pants.

Alfred moaned as Arthur's hand began to rub his rapidly hardening length through his pants. He could feel the teacher's erection pressing temptingly into his leg. Alfred had never thought it was possible to want someone so badly, and, unable to control himself, he flipped himself and Arthur over, so that _he_ was on top, grinding his own erection hard against Arthur's. They both moaned in mutual longing as each stared deeply into the other's lust-clouded eyes.

"A-Alfred..." Arthur whispered, his voice weak, "We, we shouldn't be doing this. I mean –"

"I don't care that you're my teacher. If we feel this way about each other then why should we have to listen to what other people say?"

"I don't want to rush you, Alfred. This might not be what you really want, in the long run. But," Arthur said as he moved off the bed to kneel at the side of it, Alfred following to sit on the edge with his legs on the floor, either side of the teacher, "Just... Let me make you feel good. Just for tonight."

Alfred's response caught in his throat and was instead replaced by a sharp intake of air as he felt the Englishman deftly undo his pants and take his penis into his mouth. Arthur took only the head into his mouth at first, slowly encircling it with his tongue teasingly, before taking more of his thick shaft and sucking gently, eliciting a growl from the American who, when Arthur raised his eyes to check, was gazing down at him with a mixture of lust and of true affection.

Alfred's cock tasted good to Arthur, and the thought of pleasuring him made the Englishman grow even harder as he continued to suck greedily on Alfred's member. He could begin to feel it twitch in his mouth and Arthur knew that Alfred must be close. God knows he was close enough already, and he was the one doing that sucking. He took Alfred's penis from his mouth and, gently wrapping his fingers around the base of his shaft, began to slowly pump his fist up and down, as he licked the precum from the tip.

Suddenly he forced the entire length of Alfred's cock into his mouth, and slightly down his throat. He continued for a few seconds before he heard the American mumble from somewhere that he was about to come. Arthur continued to suck, getting faster and harder as he felt Alfred's hips bucking, thrusting his cock deeper into Arthur's mouth.

Alfred moaned Arthur's name as he came hard into Arthur's mouth, the Englishman expertly swallowing cleanly. He stood up and watched his lover crash back down onto the bed, panting and sweaty, and smiled to himself knowing he had made the American feel that way. However, his brief moment of triumph was short lived as Alfred sat right back up and pulled the teacher onto the bed underneath him, removing Arthur's pants and boxer shorts before fastening his warm hand around his now – exposed cock and rubbing it slowly.

"I may not know how to do much of this stuff, but I can do this, I guess, and I kind of want to make you feel how you just made me feel." Alfred mumbled embarrassedly, increasing his speed and watching how Arthur squirmed and writhed in pleasure below him. The Englishman's eyes were bright and they stared straight up into Alfred's, even as he took short, shallow breaths and emitted loud moans of ecstasy. Alfred couldn't think how anything could be sexier than how Arthur looked below him right now, so vulnerable and gazing at him so adoringly.

"Arthur, I think I might love you" Alfred whispered as he finished off the Brit, whose cum landed on his own bare chest, which Alfred licked up quickly, surprised and quite happy that it didn't taste as weird as he had been expecting. Arthur stared in shock at Alfred.

"Alfred, do you mean that?"

"Well, I think so..." Alfred lay down next to Arthur and pulled him into a soft embrace, nuzzling his hair, which smelled vaguely of a fruity shampoo and held the slightest whiff of smoke.

Arthur nuzzled back, numbed by sheer joy. Never in his life had be felt so happy. He knew the logical side of his brain would start thinking up complications later on, but for now, at least, he wanted to just enjoy the feeling of lying in his lover's arms. Alfred Jones's arms.

"Next time you say those words," Arthur mumbled as both the blonds started to fall happily to sleep in a post – orgasmic bliss, "I'll make sure you're certain you mean them."

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><p><strong>EEEE finally a little bit of smut! I know it's not much for now, but rest assured there will be much, much more to come! :D<strong>

**Thanks for reading :3**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey there! Sorry for the late update, My family has gone travelling and left me to look after the two great danes, which, needless to say is rather tiring! Plus they keep trying to eat my laptop! Anyway I hope you enjoy!**

**WARNING: Contains YAOI/ BOYXBOY**

**DISCLAIMER: As much as I would like to, I do not own Hetalia or any of its characters.**

**ENJOY ~ringoichico~**

* * *

><p>The thin light of the weak early morning sun woke Alfred gently from his sleep. For a while, he didn't open his eyes, vaguely noting a dull headache and not wanting to exacerbate it. He inhaled deeply and smelled a mixture of shampoo, expensive cologne and a hint of sweat.<p>

Alfred snapped his eyes open with a start and was greeted by a mess of bright blonde hair. Arthur Kirkland's bright blonde hair. Alfred glanced down and realised that the man in question was currently completely naked in his arms, and that he himself was in the same state of undress.

"Holy-" The American sat up quickly and moved to the other side of his bed, hand over his mouth. This disturbed the sleeping Arthur, who rolled around so he was facing Alfred and snuggled back down into the pillow. Alfred's cheeks turned bright red when he noticed how adorable and vulnerable Arthur looked, and as more of the memories from the previous night came flooding back, his blush grew even deeper.

Alfred's mind began to whirr. He had spent the night with a man. With a teacher. With Arthur. Although the last thought slightly elated him, the other two confused him greatly. What if anyone found out? Arthur would lose his job, surely. Alfred's heart began to ache at the thought of such a wonderful night having the possibility of causing such terrible ends. What should he do?

His instinct was to climb right back into Arthur's bed, hold the Englishman's slender body close to his and never let him go, but his reason told him that his presence could only harm the man for whom he felt so many baffling emotions. After all, Arthur was perfection embodied, a fantastic, enthusiastic teacher, and Alfred was just one of his students. Nothing special. Maybe Arthur did this with all his students. Alfred didn't really believe that, but the thought remained in the back of his mind as he recalled that he had practically confessed his love to the teacher last night in the throes of their passion and had received no real reply.

Alfred sighed and reached out a hand to brush some particularly unruly strands of Arthur's hair from his eyes, pausing to gently stroke the soft skin of his cheek. The thought of causing such a beautiful creature pain, through either making him lose his job or allowing the Englishman to see all Alfred's imperfections made the American's stomach clench. He couldn't allow it to happen. He wouldn't. He was a hero, wasn't he?

And with that determination pulsing through his veins, Alfred gathered up his belongings and threw on the clothes he was wearing at the club the night before, thankful they were acceptable daytime attire, and headed out of the door and down the street to his apartment, but not before grazing Arthur's forehead gently with his lips. Alfred would say it was the almost dried out contact lenses which he has neglected to take out the night before, but his eyes were rather unusually wet.

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><p>Arthur sat at his kitchen table drinking a black coffee and smoking a cigarette. He didn't care that he was doing it inside the house. What did that matter? He clenched his fist on the table as he recalled how he had woken up and stretched his arm out for Alfred, only to find that the sandy blond had left, taking all his stuff with him.<p>

A number of angry tears fell about Arthur's teacup. What had he done wrong? Had he scared Alfred off, or made his feel uncomfortable at all? Was he going to tell the school that his teacher had made a move on him and taken him back to his apartment? Arthur hissed.

"Jesus _bloody _Christ. I thought he said he loved me, _dammit."_ Although Arthur knew they were probably just words said in the heat of the moment because it felt right, he also knew that one doesn't tell someone one loves them unless one is harbouring a significant amount of affection for the other party.

A small growl escaped his throat as he stood up and moved to the balcony where he glared angrily at the entrance to Alfred's room. Another thought occurred to him: Had Alfred left because he felt as though he would be a burden? Or that he would put Arthur's job in jeopardy? Ever the hero, albeit a bloody twit of one. Arthur groaned and held his head in his hands. If that was the case, he would just have to made the American realise that he wasn't just some damsel in distress, and he was old and mature enough to look after himself. And if by some terrible chance someone found out about his feelings for the student, he would be able to handle that, too. Alfred struck him as the sort of person who seemed a bit too used to taking the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Arthur took a long drag on his cigarette as he thought through his plan of action. Alfred was doubtlessly planning to try and ignore him at school. Arthur decided he was under no circumstances going to allow that to happen, he would _make_ Alfred Jones take notice of him. And he would also find out what it was that was making him feel like he needed to be a hero all the time.

* * *

><p>Francis woke Alfred from his pre-school slumber as he did most mornings, apart from this morning a sharp wrench out of the classroom and into the hallway replaced the usual gentle nudge.<p>

"Alfred, _mon ami_, " the Frenchman whispered urgently "I am so very sorry about leaving you on Friday. Were you caught? Did _Monsieur_ Kirkland catch you?"

Arthur attempted to disguise the flush threatening to appear on his cheeks, "Ah, hey Francis. Um, no I just left and snuck into my apartment, told my pa I had to come home early because your dog got sick. Arth- I mean, Mr. Kirkland - he didn't see me." He felt weird lying to Francis, but it was all in the interest of protecting Arthur.

"Well that is a relief, _mon amour_, although it is a shame about that girl, _non?_ You seemed to be getting on very well." Francis winked cheekily, but Alfred looked blank.

"Girl? What girl?"

Francis held the back of his hand to his forehead in a mock swoon, "Oh Alfred, but you are so cold! The pretty redhead with whom you were dancing! Or did you have so many women throwing themselves at you that you forgot"

"Oh yeah, her. Yeah she was kinda cute, I guess."

"Well, _mon ami_, you are in luck. I managed to get her number for you before I left. Here," he handed Alfred a neatly folded piece of lilac paper, "you should call her, she seemed to quite like you."

Alfred blushed and took the paper. She had really liked him that much? He put it in his pocket and went back to slump at his desk. His weekend had been slow, with work as usual in the mornings and videogames in the daytime to attempt to take his mind from Arthur. Try as he might, he couldn't shake the constant stream of thoughts flowing steadily into his mind. Brief snapshots of Arthur, flushed and naked underneath him, his green eyes alight with want and lust and longing. Images of his quiet, peaceful sleeping face lit by the sunlight filtered through the blinds on the windows. Flickers of the soft moans of ecstasy he had unwillingly uttered as Alfred had pleasured him.

These thoughts would almost cause Alfred to lose his composure, to run the few doors down the street and bang on his door, calling his name in desperation. Fortunately his desire to be a hero and to protect Arthur just about won out. Alfred just prayed that he wouldn't see him much during the school day; he was afraid if he saw him he would lose all composure.

Unfortunately, Alfred had realised, last period on a Monday was History. His plan for surviving that was simple: Spend the entire lesson playing videogames on his mobile under the desk. It was the only thing he thought _might_ prevent him from gawping at the vision of beauty that was his History teacher.

However, as History arrived and Alfred fell heavily into his seat, he felt for his phone in his pocket and realised it had gone. He panicked a little, but calmly searched his bag and other pockets, getting more frustrated when he still couldn't find it, until Francis walked in, grinning and waving the phone in question mischievously in his hand.

"Francis, you idiot! I was so worried I thought I'd lost my pho- ... Wait, What have you done?"

"Nothing in particular, _mon amour_, just gave you a helping hand in texting the pretty girl." Francis grinned and chuckled a little when Alfred snatched his phone back angrily.

"You had no right, Francis. I didn't even know if I _wanted_ to text her. I-" Alfred paused and blushed furiously when he noticed Arthur walk in to the classroom, looking annoyingly handsome in a white shirt and black tie with a dark green suit. "Nevermind." Alfred whispered, turning away from both Arthur and Francis to face out the window onto the familiar sight of the fields and loading up "Street Racer XZ10" on his phone.

And that was how he remained throughout the lesson, fighting the temptation to turn and stare longingly at Arthur in all his glory, and instead focusing all his attentions onto trying to beat his best lap time on the "Downtown Chicago" track. He was still playing when a text came through. Alfred opened it with interest.

**From: {Katie}**

**Haha yeah that'd be great, Alfred! I'm looking forward to getting to know you! :)xx**

**Recieved : {14:50}**

Alfred stared in confusion before remembering what Francis had said about giving him a hand texting the girl. He looked through his sent box and, sure enough, a number of somewhat flirty texts apparently sent from him to "Katie", who he could only assume was the redhead, presented themselves to him. The last one he had apparently sent was asking her out on a date for some coffee. Alfred's jaw dropped.

"Francis, what the _fuck?_"

The class giggled, and Alfred realised he had shouted, rather than whispered. Arthur came and stood in front of him, asking for his phone. Still refusing to look at the teacher, Alfred handed it over to him silently.

"You can see me after class, Mr. Jones" Alfred had made the mistake of looking up at Arthur and catching his startling green eyes. The teacher grinned at him and Alfred blushed, forcing his eyes back down to his desk.

On the occasions that he did manage to look at Arthur, he was horrified to see him playing with his phone. He wanted to shout out that the messages to the girl were Francis's doing, not his, but he was very much aware that he couldn't, at least not until the bell for the end of school rang, which, at long last, it did. The room slowly emptied and Francis wished him "_bonne chance_" and headed off with a group of enamoured girls. At last, they were alone. Alfred stayed in his seat, focusing his attention on a small bit of graffiti on his desk and scowling. He felt Arthur move to stand in front of him.

"So, Mr. Jones. It appears that you cannot give either me or my class attention, but you can find time to flirt shamelessly with girls during school time. In my opinion –" Arthur was interrupted by Alfred mumbling, though he still tried to look anywhere other than in his teacher's eyes.

"I didn't send them. It was Francis. It was just some girl from the club and I wasn't even that interested in her but –" This time, it was Alfred's turn to be interrupted as Arthur slammed bother his hands down on Alfred's desk so he was leaning over the American, placing their faces only inches apart. Feeling Arthur's hot breath on his skin made Alfred finally look up, and their eyes made contact.

"Why have you been ignoring me, Alfred? Why did you leave in the morning?" Arthur's voice was barely a whisper. "Why won't you look at me?"

Alfred had to fight his instincts incredibly hard to stop himself from wrapping his arms around the Englishman's neck and pulling him into a soft embrace, but he somehow managed, and kept his mouth shut while Arthur's eyes desperately searched Alfred's sapphires for any hint as to what he was feeling. Eventually he sighed and walked away, back to his desk, after tossing Alfred's mobile gently into his lap.

"I sent myself a text from your mobile phone, Alfred. Now we have each other's numbers. I don't know why you're ignoring me, but I won't let you, I promise you that. You're free to leave."

Alfred gulped and ran at full pelt out of the classroom.

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><p><strong>Ahh, silly Alfred, always trying to be the hero! I hope you enjoyed it! Reviews would be appreciated and always make my day! <strong>

**Thank you for reading and to all those who have reviewed! :3**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey! for once this chapter is pretty much from Alfred's POV, and contains a bit of smut, which I hope you enjoy!**

**WARNING: Contains YAOI/ BOYXBOY**

**DISCLAIMER: As much as I would like to, I do not own Hetalia or any of its characters.**

**ENJOY ~ringoichico~**

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><p><strong>From:{Arthur Kirkland}<strong>

**Why have you not texted me yet, Alfred? I eagerly await your response.**

**Received :{18:41}**

**From:{Arthur Kirkland}**

**Seriously, Alfred. I do not appreciate being ignored. Text or call me, please. **

**Received:{19:23}**

**From:{Arthur Kirkland}**

**ALFRED F. JONES!**

**Received:{19:28}**

***Missed Call* From: {Arthur Kirkland} – {21:08}**

**From:{Arthur Kirkland}**

**Bloody hell, Alferd Jones pick up hte pohne DAMMNITT!1**

**Received:{21:11}**

**From:{Arthur Kirkland}**

**Alfred you idiot i know whre you livem you utter twit.**

**Received:{21:30}**

**From:{Arthur Kirkland}**

**I know you want me Alfreed you can;t hide it from me. I swear to god i will drnk myself to death ubnmless you reply right now. DAMN you whyu won;t you loiok at me? I do not take kindly to htis behaviour. **

**Received:{22:16}**

By the time Alfred had finished his shift at work and had chance to check his phone, he found himself facing a tidal wave of messages from a seemingly now very intoxicated Arthur. The monotony of after hours cleaning had managed to keep his mind from thinking about the teacher for a while, but seeing those messages and thinking about the state Arthur must be in made his heart ache. He had wanted to _protect_ the Englishman by leaving him alone and getting out of his life, not to hurt him as he seemed to be doing right now. Could that one night really have meant so much to him?

Alfred sighed and helped himself to a large, strong coffee. The management let him have the occasional coffee considering the long and frequent hours he had to work. HE sat down at one of the tables he had just cleaned and stared out the window into the night. The occasional flash of headlights passed his eyes, but they were little more than blurs. Alfred's eyes were focused on the sky, which for the first time in over a week was full of full, heavy clouds. Alfred wondered if it was going to rain, and hoped it didn't because he didn't have an umbrella.

Unfortunately by the time he got home, the heavens had opened and Alfred was decidedly soaking wet. He shook himself off in the hallway of his apartment in the style of a small, confused puppy. He had yet to eat and so attempted to head through the living room to the kitchen to grab some bread and snacks ready for a night of homework and videogames. However, the dark, hulking figure of his father was stood in the kitchen, bottle of whiskey in hand. Arthur apologised for his intrusion and made to leave, but a firm, dirty hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"Son." The man grunted. Alfred had yet to turn around, but could smell the whiskey on the breath of his father; it was dangerous to be near him when he was this drunk. Alfred tried to shuffle out of his grasp, but his father's hand was unrelenting. "Don't try and get away from me."

Alfred turned to look his father in the eye, "what's up, pa?"

His father spluttered – it might have been a laugh, or maybe a brief, angry sob. "I lost the rent money."

"What? How? It was only transferred from my account to yours a couple of days ago! You had whiskey in the house! What did you spend it on?" Alfred was livid. He had some emergency funds, but depending on how much his father had lost, it might not be enough to cover the losses.

"I lost it on a bet."

"You _what?_ Pa, you know we don't have that money. Why the hell would you do that?" Alfred couldn't stop the anger from creeping into his voice, it rising slightly in volume and pitch. His hands were clenched in fists of anger at his side.

His father's expression changed from reasonably placid to one of anger. "Do you really think I have to explain myself to _you_? Fucking worthless piece of shit."

"You have no _fucking_ idea how fucking hard I worked for that money. Of course you would have no idea, all you do is sit on you ass all day and drink and smoke. _You're _the worthless one here." Alfred felt a fist collide with the side of his head, knocking his glasses off and him into the doorframe between the kitchen and the living room, hitting his head again hard enough to make him sink to the floor, letting out a groan in the process. Bright stares flashed white and yellow and green in front of his eyes, and he only vaguely registered a foot burying itself repeatedly in his stomach. He tasted blood in his mouth and shut his eyes, ready to accept whatever else his father had to throw at him.

Then suddenly, somewhere between two kicks in the ribs something snapped in Alfred. With every inch of strength he possessed in his body he pulled himself painfully off the floor and in one swift motion punched his father in the face. He didn't use his full force, but the man was so drunk that his balance had seemingly all but disappeared, and as his father stumbled to the floor, Alfred ran out the door, down the stairs and back into the rain, leaving his broken glasses behind him. Alfred's vision was blurry and the constant rainfall causing rain drops to cling to his eyelashes didn't help either.

He couldn't call Francis. He had worked so hard to keep his two lives separate, and he most certainly was not going to dump something this sudden and serious. His eyes swept down the street and rested on the balcony of Arthur's apartment.

"Oh, fuck it." Alfred mumbled and he jogged steadily to the Englishman's door.

As he reached the door to Arthur's apartment block, he almost chickened out. What if he was turned away? What if Arthur never wanted to see him again? Swallowing these thoughts, he hit the buzzer for Arthur's apartment.

The buzzer hissed with static for a second, then flicked into life. "Good evening?" Even through the distorted buzzer Alfred could tell that Arthur's speech was a little slurred, meaning he had indeed been drinking. Nonetheless, Alfred's heart still skipped a beat, and he found it hard to bring himself to say anything.

"Hello?" Arthur's voice again inquired.

Alfred was very conscious of the fact that his father might come stumbling into the street looking for him at any second, which was the only reason he managed to blurt anything out at all.

"Arthur. Arthur it's Alfred. I know I've been a total asshole but please can you buzz me up?"

Static returned to the buzzer once again, and for one horrifying moment Alfred thought that Arthur had just decided to leave him there. However he heard a small click coming from the door, signifying it had been unlocked. Alfred sighed with relief as he looked over his shoulder one last time to check his father wasn't watching, then entered and ran as fast as he could up the stairs to Arthur's floor. To his surprise, the Englishman was stood in the doorway, arms folded and one thick eyebrow raised.

"And to what, exactly, do I owe the pleasure, Mr. Jo- WHAT THE BLOODY HELL HAPPENED TO YOU?" Arthur's voice had started out cold, but when he saw the blood crusting on Alfred's lips, the bruises on his bare arms exposed by the soaked, short sleeved t-shirt he was wearing through which small patches of bruising and blood could also be seen. Arthur rushed up to Alfred, grabbed hold of both of his shoulders and looked him over frantically. "Who did this to you, Alfred?" His voice lowered to a whisper.

Alfred opened his mouth to reply, but for the second time that evening the words stuck in his throat. He tried to force the words out, but the block in his throat refused to clear, and what came out instead was a sob. To his horror, Alfred felt hot tears roll down his cheek and heard small sobs emitted from his chest. Next thing he knew, Arthur's arms were around him and his warm, dry body was pressed comfortingly against his own cold, wet chest and his lips were pressing against his cheeks, kissing away the salty drops carving pathways through the blood and dirt stains on his tanned cheeks.

Arthur eventually pulled away once Alfred had managed to force his sobs to subside. Alfred raised his eyes and found that the Englishman was staring right back at him. Alfred saw Arthur's beautiful green eyes flutter shut gently before he felt his smooth, pink lips on his own. It was a caring, gentle kiss which melted Alfred's heart. How was he supposed to act all heroic when his heart could be swayed so easily by this man? Before he could respond to the kiss, Arthur pulled away again.

"Come in, Alfred. Let me get you cleaned up." Arthur took hold of Alfred's hand and led him inside. Alfred flinched a little when he was taken into the bathroom. However Arthur simply showed him how to work the shower and left him to it.

Alfred sighed before plucking up the courage to look at himself in the mirror. He really was a mess. A small gash surrounded by bruise lay on the top of his left cheek near his temple. Alfred guessed the cut might have come from his father's watch which he was wearing when he punched him. Blood had dried on his lips and, when he lifted off his shirt, Alfred saw that more of the same had come from his father's boot. He winced as he stepped into the hot shower, but slowly felt an increased sense of relief as the clean, warm water washed away the dirt and blood.

He looked at the small number of bottles resting on a small tray in the shower. Alfred picked up one bottle filled with a colourful gel and lathered it over his body and through his hair. It smelled of Arthur and it made Alfred smile, before he realised he must look a bit of an idiot grinning to himself in the shower covered in foam. He rinsed it off and took the liberty of choosing the biggest, fluffiest towel from Arthur's rack and wrapping it loosely around his waist.

When he walked into the kitchen he saw Arthur sat at the table, holding a glass filled with a clear liquid which Alfred guessed was alcoholic. Arthur was gazing absently into space as he swilled the liquid round in the glass vacant – mindedly. When he noticed Alfred had come into the room he stood up immediately and went to a cupboard.

"Sit down." Said Arthur. It was an order, but a gentle one. Alfred obliged and sat on the chair Arthur had just vacated. He heard Arthur messing about at the kitchen countertop and soon a glass of the same clear liquid was pushed under his nose.

"Gin." Was the explanation, "I'm sorry but that's all I've got and after what you look like you've been through I would imagine you need something strong."

Alfred lifted the glass to his lips and took a sip. He immediately recoiled, slightly repulsed, and Arthur let out a small giggle in response. He had returned to fuss at the countertop, and Alfred quickly downed the gin, making a face at the taste but enjoying the pleasant feeling as the alcohol seemed to warm him from the inside out.

Arthur came up to him, armed with a plethora of bandages and ointments, "right, Mr. Jones. Let's see what the damage is, shall we?" He put a small bit of creamy liquid which Alfred assumed was antiseptic onto a strip of bandage material before dabbing at the gash on his cheek. The cream felt soothing, but Alfred's temperature rose dramatically when he realised just how close Arthur's face was to his. He could see every detail of the Englishman's face, from his fantastically unruly eyebrows to every long, silken eyelash framing his breathtaking eyes. Arthur's breath was warm on his neck and without thinking, Alfred leaned in to press his now blood – free lips against the teacher's.

"I'm sorry" Alfred mumbled into the kiss. He felt as though he was nothing but a burden to Arthur. Their night of passion could destroy his livelihood and now to make matters worse he was being a burden on him once again.

Arthur briefly pulled away, held a finger up to his lips and made a shushing noise, before leaning back in to continue the kiss. Alfred felt the Englishman's slim, elegant fingers run through his still damp hair as their tongues intertwined when the kiss became more passionate, and in response he pulled Arthur's body closer, letting his hands roam over his back.

Alfred picked up Arthur, still kissing him (aside from the small "bloody hell" the Englishman had uttered when he was first raised off the ground) and carried him into the bedroom, carefully placing him on the bed. He leant over the shorter blond and began to run his tongue over his neck, occasionally stopping to kiss and nip gently at the smooth skin, grinning when he heard Arthur gasp and saw a bulge beginning to appear in the front of his suit pants. He shouldn't be doing this. This was just another thing that could ruin Arthur's life completely, but as he stared down at the man's body as he carefully removed his shirt and pants, he could no longer bear to act cold to him. Fuck heroism, he wanted Arthur.

Towel long abandoned, the two men lay naked in each other's arms, Alfred still kissing Arthur's pale delicate skin, leaving small bite marks. Arthur might be angry in the morning but so what? He wanted to leave his mark. The thought of any other person touching the Englishman made him sick. Arthur would be his and his alone.

Eventually Alfred's hand wandered down to Arthur's erection, before wrapping his strong hands softly around his member and slowly pumping his fist up and down his length. He vaguely heard Arthur moan, but focused his attention of Arthur's nipples, rolling one between the fingers of his free hand and sucking firmly on the other. He could feel Arthur's cock begin to twitch in his hand and knew the Brit must be close. His breath was coming hard and erratically, and his face was red with a mixture of pure pleasure and embarrassment.

"Alfred" Arthur's voice was barely discernable between his grunts and moans of ecstasy, "Alfred, fuck me. Please."

Alfred's head snapped up immediately to gaze into Arthur's eyes. "Really?"

"Yes, really you bloody fool," Arthur moaned. "All I ask is that you tell me what happened to you tonight in the morning. Oh, and that you never try and ignore me again."

"Fine." Was Alfred's short response, though he smiled while he said it. "Do you have..." Alfred turned red, but Arthur knew what he was talking about and leant over to his bedside table, underneath which lay a couple of condoms and a small bottle of lube. Alfred looked at them blankly.

"Alfred, do you mean to say you've never done this before, even with a girl?" Arthur looked at the sandy blonde quizzically, and Alfred reddened.

"Could you – um – teach me?" Alfred inwardly groaned at the fact that he had just bought up the invisible barrier which had lay between them, but Arthur just smiled and expertly tore open the condom wrapper, before popping it in his mouth and, much to Alfred's surprise, leaning down and pushing Alfred's length into his mouth, rolling the rubber on as he did so. Arthur smiled at the small gasp he had elicited from Alfred, and continued preparation, squirting a generous amount of lube first onto his palm, then rubbing on Alfred's cock, before turning around onto his hands an knees and using his fingers, spread some on his own entrance, taking the opportunity to widen himself slightly to avoid any pain. Alfred turned red and became even harder, if that was possible, at the delectable sight of Arthur, spread – legged and ready for him.

Alfred leaned in, gasping as he felt Arthur tightly enclose his length. He could tell Arthur had done this before by the sight of only slight discomfort on his face when Alfred leaned forward to check. Alfred took advantage of this unexpected ease by beginning to thrust in and out of the Brit, every stroke sending him closer and closer to the edge. Arthur manoeuvred slightly beneath him and began to moan loudly. Alfred knew he must be hitting the right spot and thrust harder and harder, revelling in the noises escaping his lover's perfect lips. He reached around to finish the Brit off, who came hard on the sheets, the orgasm sending ripples through his body which in turn set Alfred off. As he came while still inside Arthur he softly whispered his name, scrunching his hands into fists in the teacher's soft blond hair.

Together they fell onto the bed, exhausted and desperately happy. No words needed to be said. That would be for in the morning, before school. However, the morning and the problems which came with it seemed a million years away as they lay in each other's arms.

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><p><strong>Cheesy ending, I know, but I hope you liked it anyway! I would love some reviews if you have the time :)<strong>

**Thank you so so much for reading! :3**


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